Prisoner of Love
by Anesther
Summary: Young Jacob and Bella: He thought girls were gross; okay, they were just dumb. But she became the exception to the rule.


**AN: My muse felt this needed to be done. Don't know if it's been overused though… LOL Anyway, it's a day late—'cause it really struck said muse about an hour ago—but I hope it's alright. Please forgive grammar mistakes… I don't think my muse ever attacked the computer so quickly before. It got so excited, it ended up being longer than it was supposed to. XD **

**I never thought I'd write BellaxJacob either, disliking Bella with a passion and all, but here we go! P.S. I totally cannot recall when Bella stopped visiting Charlie, so let's just play pretend…!**

**Disclaimer: I do not own. I just torment them for pleasure.**

**XOXOXOXO**

**Prisoner of Love**

**XOXOXOXO**

Being four, Jacob believed girls—besides his mother—to be gross.

Then he met the daughter of Chief Swan.

He felt obligated to hang out with her because, besides her not knowing any other child in town, she was the daughter of his dad's best friend. And she was weird. Not like 'growing two heads' weird, but odd all the same. She would trip a lot, and raised to be a gentleman, he would grip her hand and lead her to wherever they were going. She didn't object—probably knowing it was best if she wanted to be in one piece when she left—but he saw the imperceptible frown on the youthful white face. Her face was a little pink, too, but he shrugged it off. Girls always seemed to blushing for some reason, he surmised.

She was cute though; for a girl, she was _really_ cute. Maybe it was the contrast of dark eyes and hair against snowy skin. Well, young Jacob Black wasn't exactly sure but he sure knew that Bella was rather cute.

Jacob always thought girls were icky—with their shrill voices, their need to be in everyone's business and all that dumb stuff, but he made Bella the exception to the rule. Maybe it was because she was quiet; peculiarly quiet and solemn, like she always had something buzzing in her head. He kind of likes that about her—how she just listens and doesn't butt into your business unless asked. Adults say that's obedience; young Jacob thinks it's because she's nice; or courteous, like his mother would put it.

"How old are ya?"

Bella blinks out of another reverie, turning to him softly. "I'm six."

"That's cool," he says, smiling, dark eyes bright. "I can't wait till I get older."

"Why?"

"So I can ride a motorcycle, duh!" he states in all factuality.

Bella frowns. "Why would you want to ride one of those? They're dangerous, aren't they?"

"Not unless you know how. My dad says I can get lessons as soon as I get bigger."

"I think I'll stick with walking…"

"Why? You fall a lot—that's dangerous too."

Bella suddenly pulls her hand out of his, fuming and bright red. "I do not! Watch."

She walks briskly; falls after a couple of steps.

"Are you okay?" Jacob inquires, kneeling down next to her.

"I'm fine!" she snaps, not wanting to admit defeat.

Jacob outstretches his hand. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean ta make ya mad."

Bella sighs; he looks like he means it. And he was just stating the obvious—she really does trip a lot, a klutz by nature. Deciding to let it slide, Bella brushes herself off while taking the little boy's hand.

She couldn't help but be sure though. "Are you really sorry?"

"Duh!"

And, strangely enough, Bella likes the boy's honesty, his bright personality. Suddenly, she didn't seem to mind the cold. Not too much, anyway.

**XOXOXOXO**

Catching a frog in the little pool, Jacob holds it up triumphantly.

"Lookit! I caught it! I caught it!"

Bella, who had been in the midst of finishing the 'decorations' on her mud pie, smiles warmly as he rushes over. "What'd you get now?"

The young boy holds up the tiny amphibian, stroking the slick skin of its back. "See? Isn't it cute?"

Bella wrinkles her nose a little—more out of amusement to his excitement than actual disgust—and agrees. He asks if she wants to hold it; she doesn't move immediately. At his insistence, she tentatively opens her dirty little palm, sucking in a nervous breath as the tiny green creature seems to glide into her waiting hand.

It croaks; she squeaks, surprised.

Jacob, laughing, scoops the frog into his hands and gently releases it.

"I-I wasn't scared." The young girl states vehemently; she's seven now; a big girl. She shouldn't be scared of stinking little frogs. But then, big girls were not supposed to play in the mud either just because another child coaxed her into it. Oddly, she found splattering mud together to be entertaining; it was creative, in a nasty but silly sort of way.

Grinning down at his friend, Jacob joins her in the wet dirt, poking into the mud and patting it in a similar fashion she was doing. "I know you weren't."

"I really wasn't!"

Rolling his dark eyes, Jacob's smile gets even wider. "I know."

"Do you now?"

Jacob nods his head, not looking up from his 'masterpiece.'

Sighing, Bella just keeps mashing the mud in her hands. She looks back at her companion, wondering if he means it. The young girl did not know if she should be questioning his sincerity—as he's always been upfront but overall a delight with her; withal, she did not have much luck on making friends and so she would inquire as to whether or not they actually liked her.

Trusting in his honesty, Bella slowly turns to him.

"Hey, Jake? Do you like me?"

He meets her eyes, giving her one of his dazzling, youthful smiles. "Yup!"

She feels warmth fill her up, but she can't help to make sure. "Yeah?"

"You're silly." He states candidly; then, with a wickedly charming grin, throws a glob of mud at her.

Freezing in surprise, Bella looks up at him, disbelieving.

Jacob, wondering if he upset her, was about to make a hasty apology; usually she just attacks with equal vigor—that's why he likes her so much—so he went and did the usual 'boy' stuff that he does when around his buddies.

She, too, suddenly smiles and throws her own ammo. Ha! She knew acting would get him.

When their fathers came ten minutes later to retrieve them, they were both doubly amused and startled at the sight of their children, caked from head to toe in mud. When they began to 'sternly' reprimand them, the young ones exchanged glances, tiny smirks quirking their mouths.

**XOXOXOXO**

Jacob, now six, holds out a simple flower; he didn't know what it was called, but he thought it was pretty, and his mother told him you give them to people you don't want to forget you. A forget-me-not! He remembered now. Grinning, he asks the question.

"Will you be my Valentine?"

Bella, now eight, didn't expect this. Why would he give her this? Not one for the mushiness she sees happening to people on this day, Bella hesitantly takes it from him. "Um, thank you, Jake."

"That a yes?"

She smiles then, nodding, a blush on her face. "Yes."

Still smiling, he plops down next to her, the children simply gazing out into grey day.

"I don't like it here." The little girl says then, a light breeze seeping into her clothes.

Jacob looks at her, elbows on his knees, chin in his palms. "Why not?"

"Stupid ugly weather."

Jacob blinks, looks at the sky, back at her, then again. "The rain's not too bad. I like the rainbows that come after."

"What rainbows? The sun doesn't come out."

"Sometimes it does, you just gotta look really hard. That's what my mom and dad tells me."

"Well, my parents aren't together to tell me that kind of thing." She states, a tinge of bitterness in her tone.

Jacob, more perceptive at this age, glares at her a little. "Don't blame me or my parents for that."

Bella sighs, knowing he's right. Today was the last time she would probably ever see Jacob Black, and she didn't really want to leave things in a bad state. Looking at the simple but pretty flower in her hand, Bella turns to him. "Why did you give me this?"

"It's Valentine's Day isn't it?"

"Besides that."

He shrugs. "I dunno. Guess I like ya."

Bella laughs, once again liking the straight-to-the-point answers. She notices a smudge of black on his tepid skin, and wipes it off with her thumb.

"Hey!" he barks, inching away.

"Oh, hold still, Jake, you got some black stuff on your cheek."

Sitting still, Jacob remarks, "I was helping dad in the garage before you got here."

"You are going to be a mechanic when you get older or something?"

For a minute, he's silent, then with undying conviction, replies. "Heck yeah!"

Giggling at her friend's enthusiasm, Bella looks back at the sky, strains her eyes to see some light and to her delight, finds some rays. They're dim, but there. A suddenly loneliness tears at her heart, sending an askance look at the little boy she grew to dearly miss whenever she left; when they first met, she was expecting him to be the typical boy: rude and a know-it-all. But he was always caring, showing her some cool spots, and even introducing her to some friends who had come by a few days ago.

When they had begun teasing him about having a girlfriend, she blushed; he just growled, stomped his foot, and gave them as fierce a glower he was capable of.

"Jacob, you'll miss me right?"

The boy nods fervently, his shaggy ebon locks bouncing lightly. "Yeah; you're one of my best friends."

At this, she grins and pulls him into a big embrace. She doesn't see the red staining his cheeks. "I'm going to miss you!"

He suddenly feels a soft caress on his cheek; he realizes that she just kissed him. The blush deepens; he takes back what he says about girls blushing more than boys.

Bella is standing to her full height now, running to her father who was calling her over. "Bye Jacob!" she shouts back, waving her hand, still grasping the forget-me-not. "I won't forget you! I promise!"

Jacob, standing too, was shouting back, fervently making his own promise not to forget Bella Swan. Even if she, somehow, forgot him, forgot his forget-me-not, he was going to make sure he remembered her.

His mother, beautiful and dark, puts a slender hand upon his little shoulder. "A shame she's leaving so soon. I really liked your friend, Jake."

"Yeah, but she's gonna be in here." He points to his chest, feeling the gentle rhythm of his heartbeat. As his mother kisses the top of his head, proud of his way of thinking, the boy walks into his home, and with silent determination, makes certain he will remember.


End file.
